


let's dance under the moon

by krucxa



Series: wasteland, baby! [1]
Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: .....?, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Angst with a Happy Ending, Chance Meetings, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Reunion, dongmyeong gets mentioned, i guess this would classify as a, i guess??, just... a lot of feelings tbh, tagged t just because of the setting, this is so hard to tag lmao
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-19
Updated: 2020-06-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:21:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24809197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krucxa/pseuds/krucxa
Summary: It's on a cloudless night of the full moon, that they meet again.
Relationships: Lee Keonhee/Son Dongju | Xion
Series: wasteland, baby! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830019
Comments: 6
Kudos: 29





	let's dance under the moon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [promise_mp3](https://archiveofourown.org/users/promise_mp3/gifts).



> a little birdie told me that keonhee and dongju's tag barely has any fics and then my writer lizard brain took over, so, here it is, kaś, a little gift for u ♡  
> this fic was kinda inspired by onf's moscow moscow & why mv, the title is (kinda) from moscow moscow too!!  
> (sorry if there are any mistakes i'm posting this while half-asleep)
> 
> i don't think there are any needed warnings for this. though it _is_ a post-apocalyptic setting, so there will be mentions of death (but i think that's basically a given?)

When Dongju looks up, his eyes snap up to meet the moon. Hanged high up, the light it reflects contrasts heavily with the dark, almost pitch black sky; it's such a familiar sight, if not for just how transparent the sky is. Growing up, he got used to admiring the stars peeking through the pollution. Now, the night sky appears clearer than ever. It's bittersweet, in a way—how beautiful it looks, in the midst of the star speckled canvas.

If only the stars weren't as easily visible, it wouldn't differ so much from his childhood memories. If Dongju zoned out, focused only on the sight before him, he could almost fool himself into thinking the world is still the same as he knew it. The same as it used to be, well before what could only be deemed the Apocalypse.

Dongju had never even thought he'd live to see it happen. But then, no one really did.

Wouldn't it be funny? Waking up, immediately aware that the world will end this exact day? In that case, one could prepare for it. It's a bit unfortunate, how they didn't actually get the time to do so. Dongju is aware he was lucky, only one of the lucky few; which couldn't be said about some of the people closest to him.

It doesn't happen too often, but on some nights, he lets himself wonder; what it would be like, if he wasn't in the right place at the right time. If it was Dongmyeong instead of him—would he miss Dongju just as much as Dongju misses him? Would he still be here, next to him, if Dongju insisted on meeting up that day?

He hadn't seen his brother in around five months—not that he's counting. Time seems to pass by in a different pattern after the End, it would be useless to try and track it down perfectly. He doesn't want to believe that the other is gone, even though the chances he even survived up to this point are low, if not non-existent. Maybe there is no place for hope anymore, but Dongju continues to do so quietly; it's one of the only things keeping him sane at this point.

He doesn't enjoy thinking of the past, but what he hates even more is being reminded of that day, the day when everything was lost. Maybe coming out alive wasn't as lucky as one would think. Dongju definitely doesn't consider himself lucky. Not when shadows move on their own, when a person can't truly trust their own eyes, much less trust other people.

The last time Dongju saw a stranger was a bit over a week ago: it couldn't have been described as a fortunate meeting. Honestly speaking, he's not even entirely sure that person was human to begin with.

It's hard to tell, when one has seen more unexplainable things than actual people in the past few months.

The only thing that stayed the same even after the world ended was the moon. The night isn't any less dangerous than the day, but Dongju has grown to enjoy it way more than he used to. The few times that he's sure he's alone and can let his guards down, he can look up to the night sky for some kind of comfort. He isn't even sure what about it cheers him up, not exactly, but he's not about to complain.

It's one of _those_ nights. Scouting for food used to be easier, at first, even if no one understood the kind of situation they've found themselves in just yet. Months later, Dongju goes from house to house, town to town, in search of a temporary shelter. This time, the building he finds himself in is only partly holding up still, a good chunk of it having already collapsed. Dongju doesn't bother wondering what it might have once been—the remains don't make it even remotely easy to guess, though it's not like it really matters anymore.

What does matter, is the fact that it's empty. Good. As long as he's alone, he knows he's safe. Company, on the other hand, could be either helpful or deadly—Dongju doesn't think it's worth facing potential danger just because he feels lonely at times. Most times, even, except admitting it would lead to accepting it as a fact, then maybe going out of his way to look for said company, and that's the last thing he'd want to happen.

He's had quite enough experience in bottling up his feelings, back when everything was still normal, so it's not that hard to do the same thing now. The only person he has to hide it from is his own self; which may actually be harder than from other people. In a way.

At least he's got the privilege of keeping himself busy.

If trying his best to stay alive could've been called that.

As he looks around, he notices the vines climbing up the walls; they could've been described as pretty, once. Teenage Dongju would have loved this. Current Dongju barely spares it a glance, lingering for just a moment.

He's climbed up to the third floor; the stairs are barely holding up anymore, but he's careful with every step he takes. Any sound that he makes as he pads through the empty hall is muffled by the plants grown into the cracked floor. He peers down, through the gaping hole where a wall used to stand, at the mess of what he guesses would've been a backyard. If he were to trip and fall, the landing wouldn't be too pretty; he steps closer to the opposing wall, just in case.

The moment he walks in through the void doorway, he notices the one thing he dreaded he'd walk into—someone else. Dongju was so sure he's all by himself here, how didn't he even hear them? He feels a spike of panic as he stares, unmoving, at the silhouette on the other side of the room. There is no ceiling, it probably caved in sometime after the End, and the moonlight illuminates the person in a way that probably shouldn't be possible. Before, Dongju would, maybe, even call the sight alluring. Now he's too scared to even tear his gaze away.

Until the person moves, turns around and Dongju's chest hurts, hit with the sudden realization.

Something he didn't think he'd get to feel again.

Recognition.

It's on a cloudless night of the full moon, that they meet again.

Unlike Dongju himself, Keonhee isn't hiding his face. It's no wonder then, that Dongju knows it's him as soon as he catches just a glimpse of it. A lot has changed since they've last seen each other—frankly, this might have been an understatement of the century—but Dongju has always paid more attention to Keonhee than probably necessary, so it would only be strange if he _didn't_ recognize Keonhee.

It's been years. Years, since Keonhee has been a part of his life, years since Dongju would act like he's not going out of his way just to spend some time with the older, to catch his attention, even if for a short moment. He can recall restless nights filled with unanswered questions, thoughts regarding their friendship, Keonhee himself, sometimes even going as far as wondering what it would be like if he were to confess—which he didn't get to do before they eventually drifted away.

Back then, Dongju could afford the uncertainty, could let himself feel things without any consequences, but he knows there's no time for _what if_ 's anymore. The world has ended. There's no denying that. Dongju wishes they could have met again under any other circumstances.

He has to get a hold of himself, he can't let himself ponder, not anymore—yet his thoughts continue to wander, the longer he stares at the painfully familiar silhouette.

It's eerily quiet, apart from the howling wind. Keonhee's hair peeks out from under the cap he's wearing, Dongju briefly wonders how it didn't fly off yet. He remembers, Keonhee's hair a bright blue, he'd found it so interesting back then, such a beautiful shade. Compared to then, the locks are dark brown now. Either that, or black. It's hard to tell under the moonlight.

The color suits him well, anyway.

Dongju breathes out. It doesn't seem that Keonhee had noticed him yet; he still has the chance to turn back, to run, to act as if they haven't met again after years. But for whatever reason, he stays rooted in place, blankly staring at the other for what feels like ages—but it couldn't have been more than a minute, right? Time always seemed to run slower around Keonhee, after the End or not.

Throwing all caution to wind, he parts his lips, choking out, "Keonhee?"

His throat stings. His voice sounds harsher than it used to, after months of barely using it. There's this kind of roughness to it, reminding Dongju of sandpaper, yet the tone hints at a type of vulnerability that he hasn't let himself show ever since the End.

He watches as Keonhee's head snaps up, wide eyes meeting Dongju's own almost immediately. Dongju wouldn't be surprised if this was the first time Keonhee heard his name in a while. Dongju certainly didn't.

It's clear; Keonhee doesn't recognize him at first, but Dongju doesn't blame him—he's wearing a mask, covering half of his face. That, and the distance doesn't help, but Dongju doesn't think moving closer would be a wide decision, not when Keonhee doesn't even know that it's him just yet.

There's a lot of emotions flicking through Keonhee's face, gone as quick as they appear, but he doesn't even bother deciphering them all. It must be unnerving, hearing a familiar voice in the middle of a wasteland, but being unable to put a face to it. That is, unless he'd recognize Dongju just by that, but it would probably be foolish of him to hope so—therefore, after a moment, he decides not to overthink it. He brings his hand up, fingers tugging at the top of the makeshift mask, before carefully pulling it down.

Even in the dark, he sees it, the moment Keonhee's eyes widen. Or, one eye, at least—like this, the moonlight showers only half of his face, making it harder to distinguish. Dongju has to squint to somewhat make it out, unsure what to think of the way Keonhee's lips part, uncharacteristically silent.

Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe Dongju should have ran when he had the chance. Maybe this isn't even the person Dongju thinks, maybe his eyes are playing tricks on him again. It's not too late, he could still turn around and leave, hopefully get out of this alive.

But then, the other finally speaks.

"Dongju...?" if he were to describe the way his own name sounded coming from Keonhee's mouth just now, he thinks he wouldn't find a single word that would properly explain it. Maybe it's because it's past the End that his tone borders on helpless, weak, even; maybe it's because it's the two of them, specifically. Dongju isn't sure, but it fills him with an emotion he doesn't recognize, doesn't think he's ever even felt.

"Is this really you?"

Now, second-guessing everything in sight comes as second nature to them, Dongju is well aware of that, but this… this doesn't seem like that's all there is to it. For a moment, even, Dongju forgets about their surroundings, about the fallen world, just nods, staggering a few steps closer. This isn't second-guessing for the sake of staying alive, it's so much more personal than that; rather than a meeting by chance, Dongju would like to call it a reunion.

At least, he hopes it is. He can't imagine going their separate ways after this. Five months spent completely on his own were already too much, seeing a familiar face under such circumstances brings more comfort than it logically should.

"I… I thought you were dead," he admits, then pauses, clears his throat, "well, maybe not you, specifically, but… you know."

Keonhee tilts his head; he doesn't say anything at first, but he seems to get it. Even though the End didn't wipe out the entire planet, there weren't that many survivors to begin with, not to mention the few that made it through the past months. Now that he thinks about it, this might be a miracle—the fact that they even ran into each other in the first place. Dongju hasn't seen any signs of life in the outskirts of this fallen town, much less a person.

Honestly, he's a bit surprised Keonhee's even alive at this point. He always seemed like the kind to die first in an apocalyptic setting.

It shouldn't be funny. It shouldn't be funny, and yet, the corner of his mouth tilts up, and Keonhee's eyebrows raise just the slightest bit. Instead of explaining it, though, Dongju just waves his hand. This isn't really important, and even though Keonhee still looks curious, he lets Dongju drop it.

"If you're here, then," Keonhee starts, then pauses, looking like he's searching for the right words, "is… is—"

"He's not with me, if that's what you want to know," Dongju cuts in. He doesn't want to hear the name, not right now, not from Keonhee, not even in his mind. He doesn't need to be reminded of the mistake he wishes he could fix, "I—I'm not even sure if he's alive, to be honest."

The look Keonhee sends him in response is clearly meant to be comforting. Dongju's just glad that he doesn't prod any further.

They fall silent for a moment—Dongju's grown used to the overwhelming silence now, but that's mostly because he's spent all this time alone. He didn't trust any strangers enough to chance accompanying them, not that he's met too many of them anyway, but this… this is different. Even though they may be different people now, they've known each other years back, and that's enough for Dongju to feel a sense of comfort just from the silence between them. It's filled with a mutual understanding, after all.

"You know, I never even imagined we would meet again like… this," Keonhee speaks up, gesturing vaguely around them, at the ruin they're standing in the middle of, at the dark sky filled with so many stars, at the moon. Dongju gets the feeling he knows exactly what Keonhee means; even though he's never really entertained the thought of running into Keonhee again, he would never expect it to happen after the End.

He nods.

"I wish this happened in any other way," he says. He doesn't know why he feels so emotional all of sudden, but Keonhee doesn't look like he feels any better, so he continues, "like, at some cinema, or a library, or a café, even."

Keonhee makes a sound that sounds like an agreement. Then, he smiles, not as brightly as Dongju remembers he used to, but no one really has the energy for it, not anymore, "I would be so shocked, I would probably spill my drink on you."

The words bring out a chuckle out of Dongju. It's nice. He hasn't laughed in what feels like ages, "oh, you would. And I would be _so_ pissed."

He can imagine it so clearly, all the possible—realistic or not, it's not like that could happen now—ways they could have reunited if only the circumstances were different. If they haven't witnessed the world die, right in front of their eyes.

Even though it should make him sad, Dongju actually feels somewhat better, better than he's felt in the past five months. Who would have thought that seeing Keonhee again, out of all people, would cheer him up like this.

If he ignores the world for a moment, he can almost remember the way just the thought of the other made him feel, way back when they were still friends, when the way he looked at Keonhee couldn't be described as fully platonic, but longing—if only one were to pay enough attention, and if Dongju would let it show. Back then, he was too afraid to. Maybe the End changed him in a way that wasn't entirely useless. Maybe he's a bit braver, now. A little bit careless. It's unexpected, but maybe not so bad of a change, after all.

"I wish I could say _it's nice to meet you again_ ," Keonhee picks up the conversation again. His voice sounds gentler now, shyer. A bit like he's holding back tears, the exact opposite from how he made Dongju feel. Immediately, the sound fills Dongju with worry, "but I'm not sure if that would be true. We're still alive because we've survived on our own, I don't know if…" he trails off, first looking away, then slowly turning so he's not facing Dongju anymore, "I don't know if this is safe. I don't know if keeping company is a good idea."

Right at this moment, he sounds so different from the Keonhee he used to know, he almost doesn't recognize him. As if suddenly he's talking to a whole another person. It feels wrong, so wrong, but he guesses he gets what Keonhee's talking about, what worries him so much. If it was just the fact that they were alone that made it easier for them to stay alive, was this, whatever they were about to do, wise? What if it would only end with the two of them dying?

"I'm just… scared, Dongju," he adds, raising his arms, as if he was going to hug his own chest, just to comfort himself, somehow. Maybe it's the whole sentence that does it, or maybe it's just the use of Dongju's name, but Dongju can't force himself to do anything other than stare, frozen in place.

"If we only survived on our own, if it was just due to some good luck, then what? Should we go our own ways, then? What _should_ we do?" Keonhee goes on, as if he still needed to get his point across. It hurts to hear, but the concern isn't baseless, so Keonhee has every right to worry—right?

"What would be the right decision?"

And then, Keonhee looks straight at him. He seems like he expects Dongju to say something, to _do_ something, but he can't even bring himself to move.

Though, silence seems to be the wrong answer, because slowly, Keonhee's eyes lose that light that filled them so far. Maybe it was hope. Dongju wouldn't be surprised. If he didn't know better, he'd think Keonhee even looks hurt.

He watches as Keonhee exhales, a long and deep sigh. It sounds like disappointment.

With that, Keonhee turns back; up until now, Dongju didn't even notice the other entrance to the room they're in, but obviously it's there, how else would Keonhee even wander inside, if not for that? It's exactly where he's directed now, taking slow, but certain, steps, and Dongju—

Dongju doesn't know what to do.

For just a second, he hesitates. Keonhee's words keep repeating in his mind and he's not sure what _would_ be the right decision, not really; but then, when he thinks about spending the rest of his pathetic days alone, he… he can't imagine it, doesn't even _want_ to. So he takes a shaky breath and jerks forward, almost stumbling over his own feet as he closes the distance between them. He reaches his hand out, heartbeat loud in his ears as his fingers graze the material of Keonhee's jacket, before finally managing to grab his wrist. Then, he pulls.

He almost runs right into Keonhee's frame when the other stops in his tracks, but he realizes, he doesn't really care. He doesn't care if he's acting desperate, or maybe even embarrassing, because he knows, Dongju can't lose him again.

Up close, he has to crane his neck to meet Keonhee's gaze. The older is peering down at him, confusion and… _something_ else in his eyes, something that Dongju doesn't recognize. Keonhee never looked at him this way.

Dongju wishes he would.

"Please," he murmurs, tugging at Keonhee's sleeve. He watches as Keonhee's lips twitch, as if he wants to say something but holds it back, "stay with me, this time."

He stares up at Keonhee, waiting. His eyes take in the other's expression, observing Keonhee observing him—as if he was worthy of this much attention, as if Dongju wasn't the only one holding his breath. If the world was still normal, he would never let himself act this vulnerable, but does it really matter after the End?

He's sure his heart is going to rip out of his chest when he sees Keonhee's gaze soften, then drop to Dongju's hand at his wrist.

Keonhee pulls his arm away from Dongju's touch, but there isn't much time for him to really feel disappointed before he feels Keonhee's fingers brush at his knuckles. Slowly, carefully, he takes Dongju's hand in his, and—maybe this is an answer enough.

They don't say anything; the world is as quiet as ever, and Dongju is scared to break the silence again, when too much noise could attract unwanted attention. But he thinks, maybe it's going to be easier like this, with someone by his side, someone to turn to—someone to care for.

The world has ended, and whatever they choose to do, the moon will be their only witness.

**Author's Note:**

> this was basically just me going "just how long can i stretch this one (1) scene out" lmao  
> [twt](https://twitter.com/ddonibell)


End file.
